Wish You Were Here
by AnneM.Oliver
Summary: How can two people feel so blue during Oktoberfest? Well, for Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy it's pretty easy. (Dramione) Oktoberfest Challenge for The Maple Bookshelf - Prompt used: "Why do you always like me when you've been drinking, and then turn back into a harpy when you're not?"
1. Chapter 1

_All Characters and canon situations belong to JK Rowlings and Warner Brothers and I make no money from the writing or publishing of this story._

**_This story was written for an Oktober Fest challenge at The Maple Bookshelf - originally published there Sept 2012._**

Wish You Were Here

By

Anne M

**_The Morning After  
_**  
Waking up with a start, Draco Malfoy rolled over in bed and immediately reached out to the woman lying next to him. Placing his hand on her hip as she lay on her side with her back to him, he closed his eyes again; grateful the room was still mostly dark. Only a small shaft of diffused light echoed throughout the room, stealing its way inside through a slit in the curtains. It must be very early, and daylight still a safe distance away. Good. He liked it dark. It was easier to creep away in the dark, rather than the light. Perhaps he could sneak out of here without waking her.

He moved his hand from her hip up to her waist, then to her shoulder. Passing it back down her arm, he let it drift to her hand. Placing his hand on top of hers, he moved closer to her, noting the way the top sheet pooled around her waist. Rising up on his elbow, he looked down at her and noticed a tantalizing hint of breast that seemed to be waiting for his gaze. Maybe he didn't want to leave yet. Perhaps she would be up for something this morning. He definitely knew that a certain part of his anatomy was 'up' for something, and seeing how he didn't recall ANYTHING from last night, he should at least leave here with a few happy memories to store away from this occasion.

Turning to his back with a sigh, he withdrew his hand and decided not to wake her. He moved his head on the pillow to look at her in the waning darkness of the room. Funny, he couldn't even recall what she looked like. Was she tall? Was she pretty? She had at least one nice breast, but that was all he could tell. He could tell she wasn't fat, had a nice round bottom, and he thought he might see a mole on her shoulder. He leaned closer to the mole. No, it was a birthmark, and it was shaped like Germany. Hell, he couldn't remember if she was even a witch or a Muggle – but at least he knew she had a birthmark shaped like Germany!

Feeling disgusted with himself, he tried to recall anything (everything?) that he could from last night, but his mind was drawling a blank. He knew he went to a bar… but everything after that point was blank. He didn't even remember coming here last night. In truth, he didn't even know where he was, but he assumed it was the woman's flat, because it certainly wasn't his!

Why did he do this to himself? Why was he constantly looking to assuage his ennui and sense of apathy by filling it was empty, nameless, and in this case, faceless sex? He didn't deserve it, and the many women he slept with didn't deserve it either. With a certain degree of disgust – at himself and at the world in general – he slid quietly from the bed, picking up his trousers, shoes, socks and wand from the floor by his feet. Where was his shirt? No matter. All he really needed was his wand. He would Disapparate away from here before she woke up, avoiding the embarrassing 'will you call me again' when he knew he wouldn't, because he never did.

How could he call them again when half the time he didn't know their names? How could he call them again when he didn't remember what they looked like, or when they all tended to merge into one empty, hollow experience?

Slipping on his clothes, he moved to the other side of the bed to get a look at this one. For some reason, he wanted to remember this woman, if only because he felt he was finally at a turning point. He was finally tired of it all. Thanks or no thanks to this unknown woman – naked woman – with whom he supposedly shared a night of passion.

Before he looked upon her face, he spied his shirt hanging over the lamp on the bedside table. Pulling the shirt over his arms, he did quick work of the buttons, debating the entire time whether he even wanted to look at the woman. He knew he should at least wake her and tell her goodbye, but then again, what would he say after he woke her? "Thank you, whatever your name is; I had a smashing good time, even though I was pissed out of my mind. Not really your fault, but you see I'm broken inside, because I've been in love with a woman name Hermione Granger for well over five years and she doesn't give a damn about me. Therefore, you see, I was using you to dull the pain. Have a nice life."

Yeah, he could see that going over big.

While he was dictating his dribble of diatribe in his head, he picked up his jacket and slipped it on over his shirt. With his back turned away from the sleeping woman, he heard her moan slightly. He almost turned back around, but resisted. He wouldn't lie any longer. He didn't want to know what she looked like because he didn't want to remember any of this. He wouldn't tell her goodbye, or that he had a nice time, and he'd see her soon, when they were all lies. He didn't want to lie any longer, not to himself, nor to others.

Instead, with his face still toward the door, he said in a soft, hoarse whisper, "I'm leaving now." He dropped his chin to his chest in defeat, and continued aloud, even if only to himself, "I'm leaving because I always leave. I'm leaving because I'm a bastard. I'm leaving because this meant nothing to me. I'm leaving because you mean nothing to me. I'm leaving because I don't even remember last night, and the thought of it makes me sick. I've become a man I hate, who drowns every sorrow he has with firewhiskey and nameless women. I can't even say I'm sorry, because I'm not."

After his soft speech, said in sotto voce, he froze when he heard the rustling of the sheets, and then spied a shadow on the wall before him. The woman was apparently sitting up in the bed. Oh, fuck no. She had been awake. She heard him. He hadn't meant for anyone to hear his benediction save for his own, sorry soul.

It was just as well. It was better not to tempt fate. Without taking even the first glance at the woman behind him, he padded over to the door, opened it, and said, "Yeah, so that's the truth of it. Goodbye."

He Disapparated away from the hallway.

Hermione Granger sat up in the bed, a look of confused and sadness on her face and to the empty space before her, said, "Draco? What did you mean by that? Draco?"

Of course, he had already left, so he didn't hear a thing.

**Last night at a pub  
**  
Hermione was feeling a bit blue. She hated feeling as such, but she couldn't overcome it even if she had wanted to, which she didn't. She was reveling in her sorrow and grief… another day older, another year come and gone. The reason for her melancholy mood was that it was her birthday and no one seemed to care.

The bar she entered, (she didn't even know its name) was full of happy, merry people who seemed to be celebrating something, she knew not what. She would bet her last galleon they weren't celebrating her 29th birthday. No one was celebrating it! Her parents were at a dental convention in Toronto; her friends all had plans of one sort of another. No one even seemed to recall it was her birthday – the 29th one at that! Therefore, she decided to go out and celebrate it herself, hence the reason she was here at a pub – a pub that had a large sign over the bar reading, 'Happy Oktoberfest'. Ah. That was the reason the crowd was so merry – beer and polka.

She couldn't fault anyone in the crowd for having a good time. If she couldn't have a good time tonight, than at least everyone around her could. She took some comfort in that knowledge. There was no table in which to sit, so she found a place at the bar, ordered a beer on tap, and decided to continue to wallow.

Nursing her beer (for she was such a lightweight when it came to drinking, so one would be more than enough) she pondered the facts as they sat before her. She was twenty-nine years old now, she had a boring job, she hadn't been on a date in four months, all her friends were married with children, and she was in love with a man who didn't know she was alive.

No, that wasn't true. Draco Malfoy knew she was alive… he just didn't seem to care. Every once in a while she would notice him noticing her, but it was always with a look of disgust on his handsome face. Well, disgust or constipation, one or the other. She was a healer at St. Mungo's, he was on the board of governors, and he occasionally helped in the Potion's Department, as he was a superior potion maker.

Whenever they were in a room together, he would duck his head, hide his eyes, and avoid her. It was maddening. Even if he still thought of her as a lowly mudblood, he didn't have to treat her with such open disdain. Why, just the other day there was a meeting of the directors of each department (she was head of the children's ward) and the board of governors. Together, they were trying to come up with ways to raise money for a special unit of the children's ward, and the only empty seat was next to her, but what did he do? He stood. He propped his back against the wall, folded his arms, and stood right behind her. She was not only embarrassed, but also affronted.

And extremely angry with herself for having feelings for the blasted man!

She was determined to confront him after the meeting. Taking her time to straighten her papers, she rose from her seat only after almost everyone else had left. As he stood talking to the Head Healer, she continued to fumble with her papers. When the other man finally left, she turned to confront Draco.

He was staring right at her.

Her heart was beating like a base drum, her pulse flittering in her neck. Keeping her composure, she placed her folder under her arm and approached him. She imagined throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him for a split second, but even her courage couldn't allow that. She might drop her folder and papers would scatter everywhere!

Finally standing in front of him, she said, "May I ask you a question?" Then, before he confirmed that yes, she may ask a question, she asked, "Why are you always frowning when you look at me?" Okay, that wasn't what she meant to say, but it needed asked, because he usually had a large frown on his face, except as she walked closer to him, it seemed to be replaced with another look entirely. Then, all semblance of passivity left his face, and his frown returned with a vengeance. Now her hands were sweaty and her mouth dry.

He asked in return, "Is this line of questioning going to take long? I have places to go."

Her eyes lingered on his handsome, frowning face, his silver eyes, and his blond hair. He eluded a cool, calm exterior, which angered her. As persuasively as she could, she said, "Have a seat and I'll make it as quickly as I can."

He started to pull out the chair closest to him and she added, "I'll even sit all the way over here, so you won't have to sit too close to me." She walked around to the other side of the table while he sat in the chair he pulled out.

"What was your question again, Granger?" He looked down at his hands, then back up in her face, cleared his throat and said, "Oh yes, why am I always frowning, wasn't that your question?"

"Why don't you ever call me Hermione?" she asked, no longer interested in his handsome, frowning face… or his reason for it. "We've known each other close to twenty years, and you've never once called me Hermione." That fact bothered her on so many levels. He only ever called her 'Granger'. It seemed so clip, discourteous, and disrespectful.

Furrowing his brows, he said, "How many more questions are you going to ask, and will I be allowed to answer any of them before you ask another?"

"I call you Draco," she said as a response.

He sighed. That one little movement, merely a small exhale of breath, angered her more than she thought possible. How dare he 'sigh' at her – as if he was so important and she was so beneath him! "Fine," she began, "I'll get to the point. We have to see each other often, here at work, and I'd appreciate it if you would treat me with respect, that's all."

She stood and started to leave. From his seat, he reached out and grabbed her wrist as she started past him, causing her to drop her file and all the papers in it. With a distinct irritated tone in his voice, he said her name: "Hermione." She was sure that the taste of her name on his tongue was distasteful to him. Pausing for a second, he added, "I call you Hermione."

Shaking her head, she replied, "No, you really don't, but that's not really the point, and I no longer care."

With his masculine fingers still holding her wrist tightly, he said, "Then what is the point, for I fail to see how any of these questions are pertinent to anything - HERMIONE."

She thought he was mocking her now, and she wouldn't have it. "I have one last question for you, DRACO." She said his name as loudly and exaggerated as he had just said hers. "Why did you pick my department to give the new donation to, knowing it would mean that we had to work closely together, since you apparently hate me so much?"

He let go of her wrist as if she was suddenly on fire. His eyes flew to hers and he mumbled, "You would know all about hate, wouldn't you?"

Uncompromising arse! She bent down to pick up her fallen folder and papers, and said, "Forget I asked. Thank you for the donation. I'll try to make sure the assistant direction deals with anything to do with it from this point on so we won't have to speak with one another."

She looked up into his face, finding it closer than she assumed as he was down on his knees before her. There was a spark of anger in his eyes, which she thought she preferred to the normal look of boredom and abhorrence.

He grabbed her wrist again, pulled her up as he stood, and said, "I never said I didn't want to be near you, did I?"

She pulled her wrist from his hand, felt a blush tinge her cheeks, and said, "Never mind." Then she stormed out the door.

Now tonight, she sat at a pub, on her birthday, with a bunch of Oktoberfesters, all alone, and she felt guilty for so many things, but mostly for her traitorous heart, which still loved Draco Malfoy, even though he didn't deserve it.

**Draco remembers it differently  
**

Draco found out from one of Hermione's work mates that tonight was her birthday. He also found out that she was apparently celebrating it alone. He found out that second tidbit by following the birthday girl… not that he was a stalker or anything.

He felt odd after their confrontation today, after the meeting at St. Mungo's. He felt peculiar during the meeting, too, but that was because he was almost intoxicated at the very sight of her. He walked into the meeting, a bit late, and found that the only empty chair was next to her. He couldn't make himself sit next to her. He just couldn't. If he sat next to her he might be tempted to touch her, or droll or something.

He stood against the wall, behind her chair, and stared at her instead. From that vantage point, he could look at her all he wanted and no one around the table would be the wiser.

While the director of the board of governors and the Head Healer spoke about his donation to her department, he watched her. He always watched her. He couldn't help it. His eyes would linger on her whenever she was around. She had a grace and a beauty that surpassed all others. Yet, whenever they were near each other, he found that all he could think about was the guilt he felt for the way he used to treat her, for the way he used to think of her kind, and for the things that happened to her in the past.

And of course, how much unrequited love hurt. He loved her. He had for along time, and she only felt disdain for him. It cut him to the quick, but being a glutton for punishment, he still sought her out every time he could.

After the meeting, he started to talk to the Head Healer – a stupid, insipid man – for the main reason that SHE was taking her time to straighten her papers. He didn't want to quit the room until she did. When she finally rose from her seat, he dismissed the man as quickly as he could and waited for her.

She turned and stared right at him.

Every nerve ending in his body was ablaze with heat and electricity at her nearness. She approached him with her stupid little folder under her arm, and even as she came closer and closer, he imagined her throwing the folder on the floor, scattering papers everywhere, and jumping into his arms.

Well, a man could dream.

The truth was something different. When she was in front of him, she asked, "May I ask you a question?" His mouth was dry, his mind reeling. What did she want to know? He would tell her anything. He was about to embarrass himself by saying as much, when she concluded, "Why are you always frowning when you look at me?"

He was well aware that he WASN'T frowning at that moment, seeing as he felt slightly happy when she stopped to talk to him, but her question caused him to frown again. Goodness, this was it. She was finally going to give him a good set down, tell him to stop staring at her, to leave her alone, and oh yes, that she hated him.

Frowning for all he was worth, he asked, "Is this line of questioning going to take long? I have places to go?"

"Have a seat and I'll make it as quickly as I can."

With a flash of acknowledgment, he realized how pathetic he sounded, and how angry she sounded. He started to pull out a chair for her, to tell her to have a seat, so she could yell at him all she wanted, when she said, "I'll even sit all the way over here, so you won't have to sit too close to me." She walked around to the other side of the table while he sat in the chair he pulled out, to hide his embarrassment.

What did she mean by that? He wanted to be close to her, but apparently even being in the same room with him was enough to repulse her. He was rapidly feeling reckless and resigned. Fine, she hated him. So be it.

"What was your question again, Granger?" He looked down at his hands to hide the fact that he was afraid of what she was going to say. When he looked back up to her face, he had to clear the lump in his throat, before he said, "Oh yes, why am I always frowning, wasn't that your question?"

"Why don't you ever call me Hermione?" she asked. "We've known each other close to twenty years, and you've never once called me Hermione."

Furrowing his brows, he didn't know how to respond. How could he tell her that he wished to call her by her name, intimately so, every day and every night, but that he just couldn't. Calling her by her name was something he only did in his daydreams and at night when he dreamt of her. Calling her by her name would be a cherished, lovely thing, but also something that would hurt him so badly if she ever told him to stop.

Schooling his features, he asked, "How many more questions are you going to ask, and will I be allowed to answer any of them before you ask another?"

"I call you Draco," she said as a response.

He sighed. He felt he was drowning and starving all at once. Her sparkling brown eyes were alit with anger and hate. Her cheeks were flushed and he knew at that moment he should get up and leave, apologize to her for everything bad in the world, and go drown his sorrows as he did every time he thought of how pathetic he was, and how beautiful she was.

She suddenly said, "Fine, I'll get to the point. We have to see each other often, here at work, and I'd appreciate it if you would treat me with respect, that's all."

She stood and started to leave. He felt that if he spoke right now he would fumble everything, so instead of speaking he reached out and grabbed her wrist as she started by him, causing her to drop her file and all the papers in it. With a distinct feeling of defeat in his voice, he said the one word he longed to say… her name: "Hermione." It felt wonderfully sweet on his lips. He insisted, "I call you Hermione."

Shaking her head, she replied, "No, you really don't, but that's not really the point, and I no longer care."

Holding her wrist tightly so she couldn't leave, he said, "Then what is the point, for I fail to see how any of these questions are pertinent to anything - HERMIONE."

Her eyes were now blazing and she said, "I have one last question for you, DRACO. Why did you pick my department to give the new donation to, knowing it would mean that we had to work closely together, since you apparently hate me so much?"

He let go of her wrist as if she unexpectedly burned him. His eyes flew to hers and he mumbled, "You would know all about hate, wouldn't you?" Would this never end? He had never wanted to have this type of conversation with her. Every time he rehearsed a conversation with her in his head, it never unfolded as this one had! Unrequited love was hard enough for a bloke, but unrequited love with a woman who hated a chap was beyond the pale!

She bent down to pick up her fallen folder and papers, and said, "Forget I asked. Thank you for the donation. I'll try to make sure the assistant direction deals with anything to do with it from this point on so we won't have to speak with one another."

He dropped to his knees before her, feeling so angry with himself that he wanted to break everything (sans her) in the room. Tapping his anger down so that he wouldn't betray the way she made him feel, he tried to look bored as he grabbed her wrist again.  
"I never said I didn't want to be near you, did I?" he asked, pulling her to stand as he stood.

She pulled her wrist from his hand. He couldn't stand the pressing anger he saw in her eyes for a moment longer. He had to leave. There was even a faint blush tinting her cheeks, probably because he was touching her and she hated it so.

"Never mind," she replied before she stormed out the door.

He wanted to follow her. He wanted to tell her that he was a pathetic fool, and that he loved her, even if he wasn't deserving of her. He waited until she left the room, and then he decided to follow. He would tell her everything tonight, or else he would finally let all feeling for her end.

**A conversation at the pub  
**  
Draco looked around the crowded pub and located her easily enough. She was sitting at the bar, squeezed between a portly man who was practically manhandling her and a buxom woman with plaits in her hair, who was singing loudly.

It was his idea of hell, except she was here. It looked like it was her idea of hell, too, because she was frowning… just as she accused him of doing earlier today.

Stepping up behind her he said to the bartender, "Beer please, whatever's on tap."

Jerking around to look at him, she spilled a bit of her beer on her lap. "What are you going here, Draco?"

"Can't a bloke come into a pub, order a beer, and enjoy…" he paused, looked up at the sign over the bar, and said, "Oktoberfest without another barrage of questions, Hermione." He almost said, 'Granger' but caught himself at the last moment.

"You're celebrating Oktoberfest?" she asked with a strange expression on her face.

"Of course." He reached around her for his beer, felt daring, so he picked up hers, and said, "Why are you here?"

"Oh… the same reason. I love bratwurst."

He almost laughed. Instead, he took her beer and moved toward a just abandoned table. If she wanted her beer she was going to have to follow him, because he decided, right then and there that he was going to tell her how her felt for her before the night was through.


	2. Chapter 2

**Why does Granger only like Draco when she's drinking?  
**  
Sitting at a table with both their drinks in his hand, Draco watched Hermione as she crossed the large pub. It was as if he was seeing her – truly seeing her – for the first time. She was slender, but well built. She had grace, but didn't seem overly delicate. She was rather small, but not waif-like. He took a long swallow of his beer, lowered his eyes, but then looked back up as she sat down opposite him.

Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes glowing. He wondered if that was what she would look like while making love. Instantly, he grew hard with want.

"What do you want Draco?" she asked, sitting across from him in the booth. "Tell me why you followed me here and what you want now."

"Why do you assume I want anything, Gran – Hermione?" He remembered to say her first name, but only at the end. Raising one eyebrow in the air as a defensive strategy, he said, "I merely came in here to satisfy my curiosity of all things German and to celebrate with the Muggles during this little festival of October. Then, I spied you sitting on a stool, at the bar, between two questionable Muggles, and I thought you might want to join me."

Even he thought it sounded like a load of shite.

She shook her head, reached over for her beer, and said, "Whatever."

How eloquent.

"Fine, here's the truth of it, Granger," he said, his ire suddenly back. "I wanted to ask you about your outburst earlier – you know the one – the one where you called me out, said cruel things, claimed I hated you, and then ran off like a wounded pup with her tail between her legs."

She glared at him. With the colour on her cheeks ripening to a healthy crimson, she said, "There was a point to our conversation earlier, you know."

He threw his hands up in the air. "No, I don't know! All I know is that you accused me of a few things, unfoundedly, and I want to know why! Why do you hate me so much? I'm not the same bigoted boy I was in school. I can see why you would hate him, but why hate me?"

She sat back in shock, but the shock quickly gave way, and she pointed her chin out, piercing him with a harsh glare. "I rather think you have that backwards, Malfoy. I don't hate you, I never have, but you can't seem to let go of old prejudices. You still see me as inferior… beneath you or something, and I won't have it any longer, especially not tonight." In her head, she thought _'especially not on my_ birthday'. She stood to leave. "Goodnight. Enjoy Oktoberfest."

Draco almost froze on the spot, but then acting quickly, he moved from his seat, pushed her back into her side of the booth, keeping her from leaving. Sitting beside her, he felt torn. He wanted to grab her into his arms and kiss her senseless and he wanted to throttle her. What a paradox.

"Listen, Hermione, if I've said or done anything in the last few years to offend you, then I'm sorry, but you've got everything backwards. I find you attractive! There, I've said it. Albeit, I had to say it over the roar of questionable music and loud people celebrating Oktoberfest, but I finally said it."

Panic rose to his throat, making it difficult to speak. He hated feeling this way, but he didn't hate her. Why would she think such a thing?

"It's always been apparent how you feel for me," she said a bit softer.

"Apparently not and apparent to whom?" he harped. "You know, for a smart woman, you are considerably dense at times."

"What?" she screeched. "How dare you call me dense?" She poked him in the chest. "I'm the one who finds you attractive, not the other way around!"

"I think you're beautiful!" he argued in return, turning in the booth to face her. "You can't stand the sight of me!"

She waved her hands in front of her face and said, "Oh, you know I find you attractive, Draco! A woman WOULD be _dense_ if she didn't, and I'm not dense." She sighed. "But the differences between us are too immense, disparaging so, and for some reason, that's greater than the obvious attraction I feel for you, or that you claim to feel for me."

Draco felt another flash of emotion, this one laced with confusion. He struggled for the right thing to say at that moment, because he knew it was critical that he say the right thing… or die trying.

Due to his momentary pause, she continued, "It doesn't matter at any rate, because mutual attraction aside, if that's even true, you go out of your way to avoid me, at all cost, and I find it weary."

"I didn't go out of my way tonight!" he huffed, anger returning to his voice.

She asked, "What does that mean?"

"I took great pains to find out where you would be tonight. I came here because I wanted to let you know, finally, how I felt for you. I also didn't want you to celebrate your birthday alone. I know you think I'm an arse, and full of myself, but the reason I go to such great lengths to avoid you at times is because I feel like I'm caught in a vise when I'm near you. I feel torn in two. My feelings of attraction and want for you become jumbled with what I assumed were your feelings of hatred of me."

He turned away for just a moment, and then looked back at her. "The truth is… well, the truth is, I think you're perfect, Granger. Yes, Granger. I call you Granger, because I know I'm not good enough to have the right to call you by your name. Gads, Granger, you're perfect in every way, don't you know that? The very sight of you causes my heart to become constricted, and my breathing almost to stop in my chest. That's why I avoid you… I don't want to expire at your feet."

Hermione could scarcely believe the things Draco Malfoy was telling her. Perhaps she _was_ dense, because she never thought he entertained any feelings, except hate, for her. She assumed his aloofness and supreme self-control when he was near her was a sign of distaste or disgust – a sign of hate. She felt her lips tremble. She almost wanted to cry. She had probably ruined everything that might have been between them, merely because she was such an idiot. A blind, yes and dense, idiot.

Suddenly, he reached out and hauled her against him, placing one hand on her face, cupping her cheek, and the other high on her back, under her hair. She said nothing, merely stared up at him, blinking her eyes in surprise.

His arms tightened around her and he said, "I could never hate you… no, that's not true. I could hate you, and I did at one time, but right now all I feel for you is unrequited love, and as much as that pains me for you to know it, I finally had to say it, after all, it is your birthday, so I might as well be truthful to you, as a present."

"You know it's my birthday?" she whispered, her mouth close to his.

"I know everything about you, except why you loathe me so much." He stopped talking abruptly, bent his head to hers, and kissed her, brushing his lips softly on top of hers, coaxing her to open her mouth, surrender herself to the utterly smooth pleasure of his mouth on hers.

The kiss grew. It went from something wicked to something primal in a space of ten seconds. It came from somewhere deep inside him, and she knew within minutes that what he had said was true… he didn't hate her. He couldn't possibly hate her and kiss her like this!

She returned the kiss, shifting a little in the booth to face him fully. His lips tasted like a rain shower in autumn, cool at first, but then warm, wet and welcomed. He groaned, and she twisted her head to capture the sound, as his hands began to roam her body.

Finally tearing his mouth from hers, he looked down into her dazed eyes and asked, "Does that seem like a man who hates you? I only wish you didn't hate me, Granger. I really do."

Breathing heavily, she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away from her. "I have to think. I don't know what to say to any of this. It doesn't make sense." She regarded him wearily and asked, "Are you certain this isn't a prank? Are you lying for some reason?"

He sighed – long and loudly – and rose from the booth. Wiping his hands on his trouser legs, he mumbled, "Listen, no… never mind. I'm tired of it all. Have a nice birthday, alone. May all your birthday wishes come true. I know at least one will – your wish for me to leave you alone. Goodbye."

Then he picked up his beer and left her all alone, in a mass of confusion and sexual frustration.

Watching him closely, he moved to the seat she had left empty at the bar, and ordered another drink. She slid from the booth and went outside to think.

.

Draco turned from his place at the bar, and saw that she was leaving. It was just as well. He pushed the beer the barkeep had just placed in front of him away and said, "Scotch, straight up, and give me the whole bottle, please." He reached in his pocket and threw a wad of Muggle money on the counter, took his new bottle of Scotch (and now his best friend) and a glass and moved away from the bar to sit back down in the booth where he had just kissed her.

Taking a deep swig of his scotch, he slammed the glass on the table and said, "I really hope all your wishes come true, sweetheart. I really, really do. In fact…" He took his wand out of his trouser pocket under the table, and with a swish of his wand toward the front door, he said, "If only magic could bring us together, then my wish would come true, too." Feeling foolish, and knowing no amount of magic could ever bring them together, he tucked the wand back into his trousers and sagged against the back of the booth.

Unknown to him, she was still standing right on the other side of the door when he pointed his wand that way. Warmth filled her as a soft white light emitted out of the crack in the doorway. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to go back inside and find him. She walked back into the pub, looked toward the bar, but no longer saw him where she had left him. She slipped back outside, to Disapparate home.

**_Two Days later_**

Draco was sitting in an empty meeting room at St. Mungo's when Hermione Granger walked in, looking disheveled, but beautiful. They were supposed to have a meeting together today, but she had sent her assistant instead. He was still sitting there, trying to think of an excuse to seek her out, when she walked in the room.

A strand of hair fell from her clip, resting softly on her cheek, and he wanted to tuck it behind her ear. He imagined her hair looking disheveled and unkempt after making love… not that he would ever know what it was like to make love to a woman like her, but again, a man could dream.

His body temperature went almost to boiling when she sat down next to him. Desire and a sense of passion spurred him to ask, "Why are you here?"

"I need to speak with you," she said sternly.

He huffed, "I rather thought there was nothing left for us to say to each other. I told you that I found you attractive, that I no longer hated you, that what I felt was so far from hate it was shameful, and you left me in the pub all alone. What could you possibly have to say now? What's left to say that hasn't been said?"

.

Hermione felt as if she were in a tidal wave, fighting for her life, fighting to remain above water, fighting to remain calm. She remembered everything… every little detail, of their passionate night together, to his angry, whispered callous words when he left her. She replayed those words repeatedly in her head for days. He had said, "_I'm leaving because I always leave. I'm leaving because I'm a bastard. I'm leaving because this meant nothing to me. I'm leaving because you mean nothing to me. I'm leaving because I don't even remember last night, and the thought of it makes me sick. I've become a man I hate, who drowns every sorrow he has with firewhiskey and nameless women. I can't even say I'm sorry, because I'm not. Yeah, so that's the truth of it. Goodbye."_

For days, she struggled with a deep sense of self-preservation, coupled with feelings of inadequacy. First, he told her he no longer hated her in the bar. Then, he showed up at her house an hour later and they made mad, passionate love. In the morning he left her without even a glance toward the bed, where he told her that what transpired between them meant NOTHING to him, and that she meant NOTHING to him.

She couldn't face herself if she didn't face him, so finally, self-preservation won out, and she decided to call him out for leaving her that way. That's why she sought him out today. That was why she waited until everyone else left the meeting so she could confront him. And how dare he have the gall to ask her 'why' she was there.

She still recalled the surprise she felt when he suddenly appeared at the door of her flat. She felt faint recalling the desire in his eyes, and the way he bent his head and kissed her for the second time that evening, even before he crossed over the threshold. After their parting words at the pub, she didn't expect even to see him again, yet there he was.

He held her tightly against him, rained kisses down her jaw to her neck, and told her she was beautiful. He told her he loved her. Desire burned between them, each craving the other, and they gave into that feeling, shared a passionate night together (the best birthday of her life) and then before dawn could break fully, he left her – without even looking back – and he told her that she meant nothing to him… nothing.

She assumed he did it for revenge of some sort. For the life of her, she couldn't imagine what she had done to him to cause him to hate her so much, especially as he denied that hate at the pub the night before, and the truly depressing part was that she still trembled when he was near, trembled with want and desire and yes, love.

She hungered for him. She craved him madly, but he didn't feel the same. Tears burned the back of her eyes and she could barely speak. She had enough respect for herself that she could never throw herself at a man who didn't esteem or like her. She would not allow this thing between them to fester any longer. He could hate her all he wanted… he could despise her very existence, but she would not let him humiliate her ever again.

He stood from the chair and waited for her to speak.

"Why did you leave the way you did?" She looked up at him, and he looked confused.

"What?" Now she thought he looked bewildered.

"Seriously, Draco," she expelled. "The night of Oktoberfest… afterwards. Why?"

He faced her squarely. "What are you rattling on about, Granger? You left the bar before I did! I stayed behind and got pissed out of my mind, but you left. I was so drunk when I left there I don't even know where I went, but I do remember that you couldn't face me any longer, and you left before I did."

She took a deep breath and said, "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

He continued to look befuddled. Rubbing his hand over his face and through his hair, he said, "For once, just say what you mean! Get it over with, because I'm so tired of these games with you."

She pushed on his chest, sending him sprawling back down in his chair. "Did you think that what happened between us the other night would mean nothing to me, even if it didn't mean anything to you? Are you that cold and callous? Did you think you could treat me that way and then make me avoid you?" she asked calmly.

.

A look of recognition finally dawned upon him. "Yeah, about that, I know I shouldn't have followed you to the pub. I shouldn't have sought you out, but seriously, I had no more resistance. I couldn't continue on feeling the way I felt, knowing how you felt, so yeah, I guess I did rather make an arse of myself," he said truly. He searched her eyes, and then her mouth, for confirmation of his assessment. "Is this about the kiss?"

"The kiss?" she all but screamed. Leaning forward, placing her hand on the table in front of her, she placed her face right in front of his and asked, "This is about the fact that you left a woman alone after having slept with her! I think that makes you more than an arsehole… more like the biggest prat who's ever lived!"

His mouth flew open. Feeling dazed, he was beyond words. May the stars above help him, what if the girl he slept with was a friend of Granger's? What if she told her all about what happened, and the terrible things he said afterwards. He felt embarrassment and guilt wash through his blood stream, choking him on his own guilt. He asked, "How did you know about that?"

Now she looked as confused as he did. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulled him closer, and said, "Because I was there, you stupid, bloody git! I was the girl! Why do you think I'm so angry? And to think – right after I got home I even made a birthday wish that you were there with me, and poof, you appeared, and then we made love, and it was beautiful! To me, it was poignant, it meant something to me, you meant something to me, and you told me it meant nothing to you… that I meant nothing to you! How could you?"

All the colour left his face. He closed his eyes, and then opened them quickly to ask, "WHAT? Please explain! You wished I was there and THEN what happened?"


	3. Chapter 3

**_Okay – Let's get to the Point  
_**  
Draco Malfoy was having a true outer-body experience. Hermione Granger was explaining to him, with a look of true hurt on her face, how they 'made love' – her words – last night. WHY oh WHY couldn't he remember any of it?

"Wait," he cautioned, holding his hands up. "Please, start from the beginning again, because I'm very, very confused. You claim that after you went home from the pub last night, that I followed you... to your flat mind you, and that we had sex. Or, excuse me, made love?"

"Draco Malfoy," she snapped, starting to stand, "Please don't take me for a fool. I may be many things, but I'm not an idiot and neither are you. I also won't be part of a cruel joke. You know very well that you came to my flat last night, kissed me as soon as you walked in the door, and then we… oh, it's too much to repeat!"

She stood all the way and started around the table, from where they had sat when she started to explain 'everything' to him. He stood quickly, blocked the door, and said, "Seriously, Granger, I don't recall a thing. If I did, I would tell you! If I did, I'd be ecstatic! For Merlin's sakes, woman, I've been in love with you for five years! Don't you think I'd recall if we _made love_?" He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Perhaps it's YOU who takes me for a fool?"

She narrowed her gaze to him, cocking her head slightly to the side. "Do you really not recall anything?"

"Shite!" he exclaimed, pulling on her arm, forcing her to sit back down beside him at the long conference table. "I don't know what's going on here, Granger, but I remember following you… I mean, running into you at the pub, where we had less than pleasant words, and then you left in a cloud of hate and repulsion. Hell, I even went back over to the booth where we were sitting, and in a general act of charity I pulled out my wand and wished for you to have all your birthday wishes come true. I don't know why I did that, because you weren't even there any longer, but I did."

"You did what?" she inquired. "Why would you do that?" She gasped, placing her hand in front of her mouth. "You pulled your wand out in public – at a Muggle bar?"

Looking a bit chagrined, he said, "Well, yes, but no one saw me. It was under the table the whole time, and why does it matter? It was more symbolic than anything else, because you'd already left."

She hit his left shoulder with her open hand as they sat next to each other, face-to-face.

"Ouch! What was that for, woman?" He rubbed his arm.

"I wasn't gone! I was standing right outside the door! I know it, because I felt as if a spell hit me! It must have!" She closed her eyes and placed her head on the top of the table. Banging it up and down softly, she said, "No, no, no. That's why I felt funny! I even saw a soft light surround me, and I felt as if I'd been hexed or charmed, but I ignored it!"

Still banging her forehead on the table, repeating the word, "no, no, no," Draco placed his hand under her forehead and pleaded, "Please stop that. You're giving me a headache."

"But don't you see, Malfoy?" She turned to him again, sitting back up in the chair. "You sent a 'birthday wish charm' toward me, and it must have worked, and that explains why you showed up at my house. Still, it doesn't explain why you don't recall it."

He scratched his chin, regarded her words carefully, and then a slow grin, almost a smirk, etched itself to his face. "I'm your birthday wish, aye, Granger?"

"What?" she feigned outraged. "Of course not!"

"I am!" He clapped his hands together. "You wished for me, didn't you? Say it! Don't lie! Oh ho, but this is perfect… no, not perfect. Perfect would be if I remembered everything. Why don't I remember?"

She gasped again, placing her hands up to her face once more. "I know why! How could I be so stupid! Of course, I know what happened."

He continued to smile. Leaning back in his seat, he reached over and took her hand in his and said, "Then start explaining, and begin at the point where I first came to your door, and don't leave out one, single, pornographic detail, please."

"You pervert," she said with a laugh.

"I was that good, huh?" he asked, still grinning. "Please, tell me everything."

"I'll do one better," she promised. She pulled her wand out of her pocket, pointed it at him, and said, "Remember."

And he did.

.

**_Memories of that night  
_**  
Hermione entered her small flat feeling defeated. She was in love with Draco Malfoy, but she always thought he hated her. Now she knew that he didn't – at least that was the gist of what he was trying to tell her with that kiss – but she had acted so 'hateful' to him over the years, especially at the pub just now, that she was certain there was no way he would ever think kindly about her again.

How ironic. Now that she wanted him, he would no longer want her. The truth of it all wrapped its talons through her skins and caused her to want to throw herself on the ground in despair. She wanted a man who would be loyal, who would love and respect her, and who would desire her physically. Blindly, she always assumed that man could never be Draco Malfoy, but oddly enough, apparently he was that man, except now it was too late.

She felt as if her heart was breaking, and on her twenty-ninth birthday, too! Who would have thought that she was finally realizing that the man of her dreams was within reach, yet she probably drove him away forever.

That kiss was amazing. Amazing. When she was in his arms, she felt loved and cherished. No one had ever kissed her like that. No one had ever made her feel like that! Now, feeling glum and hopeless, she plopped on her sofa and said aloud, "If I could have wish for my birthday, I would wish for Draco Malfoy to be here with me, right now. Yes, _I wish he were here_. I wish that he would feel the same things for me that I feel for him. I wish he would kiss me again." She sighed.

Kicking off her shoes, dropping her purse on the floor, she had just uttered the words… "I wish Draco Malfoy was here, etc, etc, etc," when there was a knock on her door. Crossing toward the door, she opened it and sucked in an air of surprise when she saw Draco Malfoy (the man she'd had just been thinking of) standing there.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Without saying a word and without crossing the doorstep, he pulled her toward him and kissed her. He kissed her recklessly and wildly. He placed one hand high on her back, the other on her neck, then into her hair, and his mouth slanted over hers in the most passionate kiss she'd ever felt.

Pushing her inside, he slammed the door shut with his foot, even as he continued to rain kisses all over her face, neck and jaw.

She didn't care why he was here. She only cared that he WAS. Therefore, she kissed him back.

He seemed surprised by it all. Bringing his head up to stare at her he said, "I don't know why I'm here, but I'm glad for it. Even if this is all a dream, or if I'm in a drunken haze, I have to tell you this. I think… no, I know I love you."

Then he kissed her some more.

When she looked into his eyes, she could tell they were burning with passionate desire. A reciprocated desire.

His kisses slowed down, so slowly, that if felt as if he were drugging her. Hermione leaned into him, her fingers threading into his hair, her chest pressed against his. His hands were moving all over her body, but she could feel them shaking. Lifting his mouth from hers, he placed his forehead against her forehead and placed his trembling hands on her cheeks.

With closed eyes he said, "Please, tell me this is real. Tell me this isn't some spell or a dream. You're so perfect and I want you so much. Don't be cruel. Tell me right now if this isn't real." He looked back down at her, her mouth red and swollen from his kisses, her eyes dazed as if she was confused or drunk or something more enticing.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat, yet she brought one of her hands up to capture his, and as a way of answering, she guided him into her bedroom.

Standing beside the bed, her heart felt as if it was in a vise. She said, "Is this real enough for you, Draco?"

His arms tightened around her, his fingertips going up and down her back, leisurely. "If that's a bed, and we are about to do what I hope, then yes, I know this is real. Even I can't have this wonderful of a dream." He smiled at her and said, "Now, give me another kiss, Hermione." His smiled deepened, and he repeated, "Hermione. How I love saying your name."

There was a combined gentleness and possessiveness in his eyes. She would only admit to herself that she liked that. "Do you love me, Draco?"

"Yes, Hermione, I do." He dropped another kiss on her lips.

"Why, Draco?"

With a thoroughly wicked grin he said, "Because you're all I've ever wanted. You're all I'll ever need. I can't pretend otherwise, not any longer. But the real question, Hermione, is whether or not you love me."

She smiled at that question. "I love you, too." She stood on her tiptoes and placed an open mouth kiss on his lips. Her arms curved around his shoulders and she placed her head on his chest to feel the galloping pattern of his heartbeat.

Before either knew what was happening, they were on the bed, his body on hers, his weight pressing between her legs. They kissed again, their tongues mingling and dancing. His lips went down her neck to her chest, and he pulled her shirt over her head in a single, swift movement. Running his hand down her cheek, to her neck, he brushed his knuckles on the outside of her breast. "I knew they'd be beautiful, too."

Then he covered her breasts, both of them, with more kisses. She felt an ache deep in her heart, deep in the well of her soul. She burned for this man. It was sudden, unexplainable, and she didn't care. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. She pulled his shirt over his head, and then helped him out of his trousers as he helped her out of the rest of her clothing. Lowering himself to her, he continued to make love to her, touching her instinctively, loving her passionately, and whispering terms of endearment across her skin.

He thrust deeply into her warmth, and she moaned. He felt an urgent need to finish, but just so that he could make love to her again.

They made love all night long. Finally, right before dawn, they lay in each other's arms and she asked, "What will happen in the morning?"

Running his hand over her hip and stomach, he said, "We'll forget everything that happened before last night, and we'll start anew. Would you like that?"

And that was when she said the fateful statement, which caused him to forget. She said, "If I could have one more birthday wish, it would be for you to forget everything that happened between us before this moment."

Then she yawned and snuggled into the cradle of his arms, to fall fast asleep. He followed closely behind her.

Little did she know then that her second wish was about to come true; that he would forget everything that happened between them that night – everything – in the bright light of dawn.

.

**_The next day_**

A couple of hours later, just as the morning light was trying to break into the cracks in the drapes at her bedroom window, Draco Malfoy awoke, feeling puzzled and bewildered. He didn't know where he was, or whom he was with, the only thing he knew was that he felt was an overwhelming disgust at himself. He looked over at the woman who was upon her side, facing away from him, and he couldn't even recall her name, or her face, or how he got here.

The last thing he recalled, he was at the Muggle pub that was celebrating Oktoberfest, and he had just watched the woman he loved walk out the door.

He dressed quickly and left, after having said some insane things about how he didn't care for the woman in the bed, how he hated himself, and how none of it meant anything. He didn't mean for her to hear him, as he was whispering softly to himself, but he knew she heard, and he still didn't care.

He left her apartment, went home, showered and dressed, and then spent the whole day thinking about Hermione Granger, and how much he loved her.

Hermione Granger heard everything Draco had said. Without even having the decency to look at her, he told her that he was disgusted with last night, that she meant nothing to him, and that he was leaving.

She felt her heart break into a million tiny shards, each more painful than the next. She spent the entire day regretting opening her door, and her heart to the man. She also came to a decision. She was going to confront him, and make him sorry for everything.

And if that didn't work, she would make him love her.

**_Back in the Conference Room_**

Draco held his head in his hands, closed his eyes, and thought about everything he had just remembered. She began talking again, telling him how much his speech hurt her and how she felt as if her heart had broken. She thought his words were directed at her specifically. Now she knew they weren't.

"It must have been a side-effect of your birthday wish charm, Draco," she said gently, placing her hand on his arm.

He lowered that arm to stare at her intently. "What do you mean?"

She explained, "You offered me a birthday wish, by inadvertently placing a birthday wish charm on me. Don't you know, Draco, that the birthday wish charm grants the bearer to three wishes? My first wish was that you were there with me in my apartment, and you appeared. My second wish, innocently, was that you would forget everything that had happened between us. Theoretically, I wanted you to forget the bitter, ugly things that happened. I never in a million years thought you would seriously forget _everything_, but you did."

"Oh, sweetheart," he mumbled, pulling her into his arms, her chair almost toppling over in the process. He held her tightly, kissed her hair, and said, "You're the one at fault, then, right?"

She laughed a bit, looked up at him, and said, "I rather think we're both at fault, because we both let our pride and bitterness get in the way of our true feelings for each other."

"Wait," he said, ignoring the fact that she was leveling the blame equally on him. "You said the birthday wish charm grants the bearer to three wishes. You only used two, or did you?"

She pushed away from him, stared up into his eyes and said, "Little did I know that I used the third one right before I came into the room to confront you."

With apprehension he inquired, "What was the third one?"

She placed a hand on his cheek and said, "It was that you would love me as much as I loved you, no matter what, and that the things you said to me in the morning was all a mistake, and that we would spend a lifetime together, loving each other."

He lifted both hands and said, "And your wish came true. I love you as much as you love me, and everything I said was a mistake, but only because I didn't know it was you. I didn't, my love. And I plan to spend the rest of my life with you, whether you want me to or not, regardless of a silly birthday wish."

She smiled at that, and he smiled in return. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "It's a good thing you didn't wish for something stupid for your third wish, like for every night to be Oktoberfest."

She shrugged. "I don't know. I rather have a soft spot in my heart for all things German now, especially Oktoberfest. Did you know I even have a birthmark on my shoulder shaped like Germany?"

He laughed. "You don't say," he replied, even though he now recalled that certain little birthmark fondly. "Tell me what other geographical anomalies I'll discover about your body. Better yet, show me."

She raised her eyebrows, pointed her wand at the door to lock it, and did just that.

**_The End_**

_**Chapter End Notes:**_  
_Thank you all so much! Happy Oktoberfest. Wish you were all here!_


End file.
